Cleaning that mailbox!

Tonti Canyon looking toward the Illinois River.


Is it really that odd to clean your mailbox?

I do not know what possessed me (as my mother would say), but I looked at the mailbox and realized that it was filthy. It is a deep, black mailbox and can accomodate a lot of mail. The way that works of late is that for days we get pretty much nothing and then all of a sudden there is an explosion of catalogues, most of which it seems we are totally unacquainted with and/or did certainly not request. But, I am digressing. I walked out front and noticed that the mailbox was covered with grime and the interior bottom, where I hide a few garden tools for use in the front yard, were inside a relatively clean interior. The plants up front needed care and water and thus I attacked the mailbox as a sideline of sorts, maybe fearful that the mailman would refuse us delivery since our mail container had not been dusted in a very long time.

The weather has been frightful, whether it be from cyclical changes or perhaps just the mundane, old climate change that we in the world seem to take for granted and disregard, making me wonder how we are going to survive. However, in retrospect, we have so far somewhat survived both the out of control Pandemic and an out of control president (not the lack of capital letter).

The weekend saw me hiking with a friend and despite the gray skies and the somewhat warm temps, the humidity was such at Starved Rock that I had to use the windshield wipers to keep the view clear, the humidity lying like a low, ground cloud and hampering my driving vision. 

Today, it was frightfully hot, so hot in fact that after my trials and tribulations with the backyard goldfish pond, that I didn’t appear to have the energy to walk to the local swimming pool, less than half a mile from the house. We did go, and I had a fifteen minute swim, due to that fatigue, but also to the fact that MK and I were annoyed at local park district stupidity in having the steps for those with complications, assigned to a lap lane in which the lane divider was so tautly hung that one had to swim underneath it, keeping people from really enjoying the pool. When questioned about it, the swim people really could not see our point, no surprise since we find that logic and common sense are the antithesis, policy wise of the park district administration.

It is just past eight, the cicadas are singing, Stewie is crooning as MK practices the piano, and he and I are lounging on the patio as we water the grass near the pond. 

Ah, the summer, I do enjoy it so and I shall hopefully manage to avoid my third shower of the day…

About Richard Koerner

Seventy something, father, papi, educator, organizer, Francophile, traveler, amateur photographer, gardener, cyclist, kayaker, calligrapher, cinephile, reader, and overall renaissance type human being.
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